Better To Be Sober
by HedwigBlack
Summary: Andromeda is not having fun at the Malfoys' Christmas party. She's too busy thinking of someone who isn't there.


_For Quidditch League Finals Round 2- Chaser 1 for Falmouth Falcons. My prompts are: "They looked utterly adorable." Quote: "A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment."- Jane Austen, scene: a celebration, snow_

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><p>Andromeda couldn't breathe. She could feel the laces of her corset digging into her skin, and she regretted letting Bellatrix assist her in getting ready. She detested the thought of one of the servants helping her dress as if she were some sort of child but at least they had some compassion on her ribs. And all of this discomfort over the Malfoy's Christmas party for Merlin's sake. What a waste of an evening.<p>

The Blacks were among several of the wealthier Wizarding families that were invited to Malfoy Manor every year for Christmas. There was food, wine, some dancing, but mostly there was a lot of chatter. Most of the men had already gone off into Abraxas' study to talk, and Andromeda could hear her mother and her aunt Walburga gossiping from the other side of the room. In short it was a bore.

It was the sound of Andromeda's name that caused her to feel her breath finally catch in her chest. Her mother's voice had a way of carrying above the din and she distinctly heard the words _Andromeda_ and _marriage_ and if she wasn't mistaken _Lestrange_, but she instantly hoped that she was imagining things.

Rabastan Lestrange was her mother's favorite potential suitor for Andromeda. Why this was, she had no idea. He hardly talked and spent most social evenings staring at his hands. She supposed the Lestranges were wealthy enough that their other shortcomings were forgivable but Andromeda had someone else in mind. Not that anyone else knew that.

She felt her face beginning to grow red for lack of oxygen and the pain in her sides slowly growing worse. She shifted uncomfortably, reaching around to attempt to loosen the garment when she felt a cold hand close around her wrist making relief impossible.

"Andi, leave it alone," Bellatrix whispered through gritted teeth. She came to stand beside her sister, a glass of wine in hand.

"You made it too tight, I can't breathe in this thing," Andromeda complained.

"I didn't make it too tight. It's supposed to be like that." Bellatrix pulled at her sister's shoulders. "Now stick your chest out."

"Bella!"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, sighing in exasperation. "That's what corsets are for. They enhance our assets. Cissy stuck her chest out, and look at her now all cozied up in the corner with her future husband. And mind you, _her_ assets aren't nearly as big as yours."

Andromeda scowled and took the glass of wine from her sister's hand. "No more wine for you."

She took a sip, savoring the sting on her tongue as she surveyed the gathering again and sure enough, Narcissa was standing close to Lucius Malfoy in a shadowy corner. Lucius had become fascinated with a loose tendril of Narcissa's blonde hair while Narcissa blushed like a fool. Or perhaps she was also suffering from an inability to breathe, but in any case, they looked utterly adorable.

"Aren't they sweet?" Bellatrix asked sardonically, taking notice of Andromeda's gaze.

"Oh, yes. Sweet."

"You're next."

"What's that supposed to mean? I feel like I'm being auctioned off to the highest bidder. It's disgusting."

"Well no one is going to bid if you're going to be so sour all night," Bellatrix responded. "Mother will play matchmaker instead if you don't make an effort."

"I've heard. The Lestranges though?" Andromeda made a face.

"Just remember Rodolphus is mine."

"You can have him."

With that Andromeda stormed off, not caring where she ended up as long as she was away from her family and any speculations about her love life. The corridor outside of the parlour was dark but she soon came upon another door leading her into a moonlit courtyard. The walls surrounding it shielded her from the wind, and a recent dusting of snow covered the shrubbery. It was very peaceful and she welcomed the fresh air, cold though it was.

She still had the glass of wine in her hand, Bellatrix's lipstick staining the rim. She tipped glass just enough for a few drops to spill out and onto the snow-covered walkway. Blood red on pure white. It was morbid, yet satisfying.

She wondered how long it would be before Bellatrix came to find her. Bellatrix always seemed to find her when she most wanted to be alone. She wondered what Ted would say about all of this.

Ted…

He'd probably take pity on her and loosen her corset for her. And laugh at the ridiculous peacocks on the Malfoys' lawn. And maybe he would have asked her to dance instead of speculating about how close the bloodlines could get before being considered incestuous.

Maybe they'd talk about marriage. And not is the sort of way someone would talk about a business deal or buying the latest broomstick, but in a way that suggested he actually gave a damn.

Maybe they wouldn't talk about any of those things. They could be sixteen and carefree and they could hold hands in public and study for Potions exams and their lives would be uncomplicated by social constructs. That would be nice…

"Andi, come back inside. It's freezing out here."

Andromeda shook her head in wonder. "Not even five minutes," she mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Andromeda turned and forced a grin on her face as she brushed past Bellatrix to go inside. "Nothing at all."

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><p>Later that evening, she stumbled into her room, a little more drunk than she'd anticipated. Bellatrix had finally worn her down and gotten her to socialize. The wine had seemed much more appealing after the second dance with the awkward Rabastan Lestrange, and it wasn't long before she ceased to care about what anyone else thought about her assets and she got Narcissa to loosen her dress.<p>

A letter from Ted was tucked beneath her pillow where she'd left it earlier. It was warm and full of Christmas cheer and Muggle phrases she didn't quite understand. Even his handwriting spoke of someone who was steady and sure of himself.

She briefly considered answering it right away but as she wrote her first sentence she realized that _I wish you weren't a Muggleborn_ was probably not the best opening line. Better to be sober for letter writing.

But as she settled into a spinning hazy sleep, it was hard for her to deny that it was true.


End file.
